


Deliver

by Holly_Golightly



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Because Kastor sucks, Christmas, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Jealous Laurent (Captive Prince), M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, Oblivious Damen, Pining, secret santa with the boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holly_Golightly/pseuds/Holly_Golightly
Summary: Why did he have to get Laurent for Secret Santa? What the fuck did you get the person you had a giant crush on for Christmas when he made it his mission to say something derisive about everything, just for fun?Damen’s feelings were distracting at the best of times let alone when alcohol got involved. It didn’t help that Laurent was unobtainable, Damen was fairly certain he had crushing the hopes of men on his CV under special talents and interests.*Christmas eve piss up with the boys. Featuring pining, obliviousness, jealousy, and too much alcohol.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 198





	Deliver

****

Damen was clinking as he made his way down Jord’s familiar, if not entirely even, garden path. He was overly aware of the many bottles he was laden with and even more aware of the slightly icy ground underfoot. He could hear noise from inside already, and when he knocked, the release of his breath was a thick fog unfurling in front of him.

He wasn’t made to wait long, Lazar swung the door open with a booming laugh, holding up a bottle of vodka.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you can’t come in without having a shot,”

To say Damen had been dreading Christmas all year long was an understatement. But in his defence last Christmas had been the worst time of his whole life.

It had started on the Christmas Eve, at the club that Kastor had chosen. There had been copious amounts of alcohol and whatever drug he could think of. Kastor had paid for women too in a bid to- as Damen now knew- cause trouble between Damen and Jokaste.

He needn’t have bothered, Kastor had caused plenty of trouble all by himself on Christmas day in front of their whole family, when he’d announced just what he’d been doing with Jokaste behind his back for months. Naturally, Damen had not been looking forward to the anniversary of the day his brother completely fucked his life up for him.

But seeing Lazar with his shit eating grin and wearing a truly hideous Christmas jumper that said _Tinsel Tits,_ something settled in Damen’s stomach. He felt his shoulders relax. This year would be better.

Damen laughed, shaking his head helplessly “give me a chance to come in first, fucking hell,”

“It’s your penalty for being late,”

Damen pouted but Lazar only made a dismissive noise.

“Oh fuck off, the size of you it won’t even touch the sides,” he said and thrust the bottle toward Damen as he moved to block the doorway a little more.

Damen could move him. He had visions of throwing Lazar over his shoulder and carrying him into the house but experience had taught him sometimes it was best to just roll with it. And well, it was Christmas eve and Damen could probably do with the Dutch courage.

With a huff he shifted his bag laden with the secret Santa present and way too much alcohol to his wrist and unscrewed the cap of the vodka.

“Atta Boy,” Lazar said holding out a shot glass that had a bright red _N_ on it. He imagined there were four more matching shot glasses inside with the letters _C, U, T_ and _S_.

He knocked it back swiftly and tried his best not to taste it. With a grimace, he shoved the bottle back at Lazar, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Damen wasn’t an overly tactile person but he was used to Lazar by now. He kind of liked it, the easy affection and rowdy brashness; it was a whole world away from the friends he’d used to have. Sometimes he wondered how in the world his life had changed so much in such a relatively short amount of time.

A year ago, Lazar was just that guy he worked with who was always too loud on a Monday morning, and who would undoubtedly keep him talking for fifteen minutes if he bumped into him in the break room.

And now he was the guy who showed up at his house whenever he felt like it and pinned a _must watch_ list to Damen’s living room wall of all the films Damen was apparently missing out on. Lazar was _really_ into horror movies and sci-fi.

Damen could still remember the look on his face when he’d found out Damen had never seen Star Wars. They’d been at the pub for lunch with some of their other colleagues as per Friday tradition. It had been a few weeks into Damen’s post-break-up-break-down and Lazar had already proven himself invaluable to Damen’s mission to get as drunk as possible as often as possible. As was Jord, who worked in their office and usually kept his head down. Jord had been Damen’s work-friend-coffee-break-mate for a long time but it had never spilled over into their personal lives until Damen had stopped seeing all but a few of his old friends.

After his break up with Jokaste and the complete destruction of his relationship with Kastor, he’d also had to endure the singularly crushing realisation that half of his friends -and therefore Kastor’s friends- had known all along what Kastor and Jokaste were doing behind his back. It had been easy to drop them, and the ones that mattered hadn’t known and had cut contact with the others in solidarity anyway so it wasn’t all bad. By the time Lazar was realising Damen had never seen Star Wars, he and Jord were _sort of_ his new friends.

“Shouldn’t have told him that,” Jord had said post Star Wars revelation, giving Damen a sympathetic smile and half lifting his pint in a pre-emptive salute as Lazar all but screeched.

“What do you _mean_ you’ve _never_ seen _Star Wars?_ You’re fucking 26 _how the fuck?”_

“I’ve never seen Lord of the Rings either,” he’d added just to watch Lazar’s face contort a little more in outrage. He didn’t bother mentioning Game of Thrones.

“How? How is that possible?”

“Well, I had friends when I was at school and when I got older, I was busy having a life and getting laid,” he deadpanned

Jord had just snorted and Lazar, predictably, had glared and pointed a stern finger at him.

“I resent your insinuation,” he said “and that’s got to change, you’re not culturally competent if you haven’t seen it, I’m not having it,”

He’d shown up at Damen’s house two days later with Jord and the entire box set and he hadn’t let Damen have more than one beer per movie lest he get drunk and miss anything.

They’d been _actual_ friends ever since.

So really, he should have expected Lazar to answer the door like this. He’d done it before; he’d do it again. Shots were his thing.

“Come in then Fella, Jord’s been pining after you,”

“Oh, fuck off,” was the instant reply from somewhere just behind Lazar.

He moved aside, letting Damen into the blissfully warm house and sure enough Jord was hovering in the hallway.

“What you standing there for then?” Lazar asked, giving Jord a playful shove as he moved past him into the living room where Damen could hear very loud voices and the quiet thrum of music.

Jord just shook his head, giving Damen a quick hug before gesturing him down the hall to the kitchen. It looked more like a bar and at once the unimpressed look on Jord’s face made sense.

“I’m never volunteering to host ever again,” Jord side looking at his kitchen counter which was laden with various bottles and cans.

“Thought you were going to your mom’s tomorrow?”

“I am and I’ll be too drunk to tidy up tonight, late getting up tomorrow and too drunk to tidy up when I get back,”

“We’ll just have to come back boxing day to drink the rest then,” Damen laughed, handing over his bag of alcohol that Jord immediately started to empty onto the side. When he got to the wine Jord held it for a moment before turning his eyes up to Damen, eyebrows raised and face set expectantly.

“I just brought what was in the cupboard,” he made himself say and Jord let him have it with a derisive snort. They both knew it was a lie, they both knew Damen didn’t drink wine and they both knew a certain someone never brought enough wine with him and would inevitably complain when he ran out and had to start on spirits.

“Right, if you say so,” Jord said flashing him a grin “also Nikandros text me,”

It was something at least. Nikandros’ original plan was to have Damen make his excuses for him. He hadn’t put it in the group chat though because Nikandros knew exactly how much shit he was going to get for it.

“Yeah, he’s really sorry, you know how it is,” he said because he didn’t really know what excuse he’d given Jord.

Jord snorted anyway “yeah he’s not with his sister, who’s he really with?” he grinned, eyebrows up and Damen just shook his head helplessly.

Jord burst out laughing “dude,” he said nudging him out the way of the glasses lined up near the sink “you are going to bait him out so hard, you can’t lie for shit,”

“Well, he knows that better than anyone and he still flaked so that’s what he gets,”

Nikandros was his oldest friend so, he had to know that Damen was about as likely to be able to maintain his flimsy excuse as Ancel was of developing a modicum of conservatism. Which was to say there was absolutely no chance at all.

After the disaster of last Christmas and Damen’s subsequent ten-week long bender, Nikandros had reacted in all the ways Damen hadn’t been able. Nikandros had punched Kastor in the face on Damen’s behalf and broke his nose. Pallas had had to hold him back from doing more. Nikandros, Pallas, and Aktis were the only three of his old friends that he had kept in his metaphorical divorce from Kastor.

As soon as Damen had introduced Nikandros to Lazar and Jord things were pretty much sealed, even if Nikandros still maintained he couldn’t cope with Lazar for more than two hours. Nikandros said the same thing about half of their new friends and still stuck around so Damen didn’t take him too seriously.

“Tell me?” Jord hedged as he fixed Damen a drink which was more whiskey than mixer “is it that girl from the other night?”

Damen groaned and accepted the drink “oh don’t, give me half a chance at least,” he said as he followed Jord into the living room where he realised, he was indeed the last to arrive.

The room was loud and Damen appeared to have made his entrance in the middle of an argument between Nicaise and Ancel. Nicaise was the youngest in their little group, only nineteen with a mouth like a sailor and a startling ability to start an argument in an empty room.

Ancel was on his knees, leaning on the coffee table with a bottle of wine in front of him that had a straw in it, red hair loose about his shoulders and green eyes swathed in glitter in shades of green and silver. He was glaring, spitting insults at Nicaise who was curled up like a cat on the loveseat with his legs under him looking entirely unruffled.

Beside him, Laurent was lounging looking as beautiful as ever, blue eyes alight with amusement as his gaze bounced back and forth between them. Nicaise and Laurent were not related but sat together as they so often were the similarities were hard to ignore. It was the blue eyes and the general air of fuck off they both radiated with such little effort.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Berenger said as soon as Damen and Jord entered the room.

Everyone turned to look and if Damen’s eyes got caught on familiar blue for a beat too long, he hoped he covered it up well enough by ruffling Pallas’ hair where he sat on the floor beside Ancel and asking if he was drunk yet.

The answer was almost, evident by the wide smile and the shining eyes.

Erasmus shifted on the sofa, making room for Damen beside him as Jord tutted in annoyance.

“Should have known I’d lose my seat,” Jord said giving Erasmus a half glare before he turned to the rest of the room “right so Nikandros flaked which means-“

“Well where’s his secret Santa gift?” Aimeric asked sounding put out “does he realise he’s a total let down for someone or?”

Lazar burst out laughing “whoever Nikandros had, too bad fella,” he said “fucking _gutted,”_

“Fucks sake did I just waste twenty for fuck all reason?” It was Aktis grousing, flashing Pallas an annoyed frown.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that bottle-shaped gift you brought with you will come in handy,” Berenger said picking up said present which was definitely gin.

“So where is he?” Pallas asked, shifting around to stare at Damen who cut his eyes immediately to Jord for help. But he just smiled like a prick. Brilliant.

“His sister-“

“Bullshit,” Lazar announced cutting Damen’s lie short “there’s only one reason you flake on the boys and it’s to get your dick wet, so fuck him, he’s boring anyway,” he said “Aimeric you still haven’t downed your drink, don’t think I forgot, stop being a pussy and get it down you,”

Damen was thankful for the interruption, and he was fairly certain only Jord caught the look of absolute relief that washed over his face the second the spotlight was off him.

Whilst the Lazar and Aimeric confrontation got a little heated regarding the rules of a missile being successfully thrown into your drink, Damen turned his attention on Erasmus.

He was as lovely as ever, all wide shining eyes and ready smile. Eternally soft. There was something about Erasmus that made pretty much everyone -even Nicaise sometimes- want to protect him.

“What did I miss?” he asked as he made himself comfortable and put his secret Santa present on the floor beside him.

“Oh, Ancel and Nicaise have been arguing since they arrived, Lazar already broke a glass, and Laurent has bet Aimeric that he can’t go the whole night without starting an argument with Ancel,” Erasmus grinned, tugging his sleeves down over his fists as he clutched his glass to his chest and swivelled just enough to press his legs against Damen.

Aimeric was going to lose that bet. Laurent would stir until Aimeric took the bait and with a few drinks in him it would be almost too easy for Laurent to get it out of him. No doubt the forfeit would be fittingly horrendous; it was Laurent after all.

“But how are you? Feeling alright?” Erasmus asked

“Not as bad as I thought,” he said which was absolutely the truth. He’d worried he’d be maudlin by now but it hadn’t hit him yet.

“Are you going to your dad’s tomorrow?” Erasmus asked quietly, turning into him more and lowering his voice as the conversation carried on around them, over them.

Damen’s hand tightened unconsciously on his glass “yeah,” he said “if I don’t go it’ll be worse,”

He was going to his mom’s in the morning, spending the majority of the day with her and his step-sisters. Then in the evening, like every year for the past decade, he’d go to his father’s where he would see most of his extended family for the first time since last Christmas and the utter humiliation Kastor had put him through. He’d also have to see Kastor and Jokaste.

“No one would blame you if you didn’t go,” Erasmus said, sliding his hand to Damen’s knee and squeezing affectionately.

Damen smiled and knocked their heads together gently, predictably Erasmus’ answering smile was soft and Damen was struck, not for the first time, by how endearing he was. There would always be part of him that adored Erasmus. He’d shown up in Damen’s life right when he needed him. He was everything Jokaste was not, he’d been sweet and it had been simple, a legitimate spring fling, and even when they’d broken up Erasmus had stayed friends with them; with him.

“I know, but if I don’t go now I probably never will and he doesn’t get to rob my family from me too, you know?”

Erasmus nodded “if you need to get away tomorrow, I’m only a phone call away, I’ll come pick you up,”

Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he could have fallen in love with Erasmus, done things properly, if the both of them had been in better places. Less broken. Things would be so easy. But life didn’t work like that and Erasmus was really into a guy that went into his coffee shop every morning and was building up the courage to ask him out. Erasmus was also the only person Damen had spilled his soul to regarding his crushingly distracting _thing_ for Laurent. Jord knew and Nikandros had known even before Damen did, but he hadn’t talked to them about it; they’d give him shit because Laurent was notorious for being a tease. Damen was fairly certain he had _crushing the hopes of men_ on his CV under special talents and interests. Damen already knew it was hopeless because Laurent was unobtainable. It was his _thing_ ; he didn’t need to hear it from Jord and Nik too.

Damen opened his mouth to respond but he was stopped by the impact of a cushion as it came flying toward them.

“Get a fucking room,”

Damen glanced up at Nicaise who had thrown the cushion, eyes as glacial as ever and a pursed little frown on his mouth like he was wildly unimpressed. But then, that was just Nicaise. Damen had had the feeling once or twice -or a hundred times- that Nicaise wasn’t his biggest fan.

“You are _not_ banging in my spare room,” Jord interjected

“Again,” Pallas added the absolute traitor.

“Oh my god,” Erasmus breathed, covering his face with his hands and Damen didn’t need to see to know he was bright red.

Despite himself Damen flicked his eyes to Laurent. His expression was unreadable as their gazes met, familiarly cool and artic as always. Damen didn’t look away, never could, it was Laurent who broke the stare, turning to whisper something to Nicaise who was leaning against him and still scowling in Damen’s general direction. He dropped his gaze when Nicaise turned his head and said something that made Laurent glower.

“Shall we get this started?” Pallas said, a welcome distraction “who wants to go first?”

“Well, who had Nik?” Lazar asked

Aktis scowled “I did, wish I hadn’t bothered, _twenty_ and for what?”

Lazar snorted “ah you’ve been proper stiffed you have mate, I am also sorry in advance,”

“Oh brilliant, the _one_ person I didn’t want to have me,” Aktis laughed good naturedly

“Not true, no one wanted Nicaise,” Ancel pointed out, which absolutely wasn’t a lie. Nicaise was just as likely not to bother getting someone a gift as he was to get something awful. Damen really, _really,_ hoped Nicaise didn’t have him.

“I wouldn’t mind, he knows better than to screw me over,” Laurent offered smirking as he took a gulp of his wine.

Also true. Nicaise wouldn’t have dared. In fact, save for perhaps Lazar, no one would have wanted Laurent for the same reason; he was impossible to buy for. And Damen now knew that first hand. Because he had Laurent. And he would be fucking lying if he said he hadn’t spent the past three weeks panicking over it.

What the fuck did you get the person you had a giant distracting crush on for Christmas when he made it his mission to say something derisive about _everything_ just for fun?

Laurent was probably the fussiest person he’d ever met in his life. No, that wasn’t true, fussy implied no rhyme or reason, Laurent was just particular. He knew what he liked and what he wanted and he wouldn’t settle for anything else. It was admirable really. But in terms of secret Santa, it was a fucking nightmare.

Ordinarily, Damen liked buying gifts. Before last year he’d always loved Christmas specifically for the gift giving. But gift giving usually went with the presupposed idea that you knew someone well enough to be getting them a gift to begin with.

It’s not like he didn’t know Laurent, he did, but Laurent was an enigma, prided himself on that fact. Damen wanted to know him, truly, so badly though that he couldn’t trust that what he surmised was fact, and not just wishful thinking.

He had met Laurent in February, somewhere near the tail end of his post-Kastor bender on a night out with Jord and Lazar. They’d already been introduced to Damen’s friends and Damen had met a few of theirs but Laurent had been on holiday with his brother at the time. As such Laurent’s very first impression of Damen was on a night out wherein Damen had fucked a guy in the toilets, and then left with two girls an hour later, and he’d been absolutely shit-faced on top of that. So, straight out the gates, so _not_ a good impression to make.

Damen could only be thankful for small mercies in that he didn’t automatically hit on Laurent for being the single most attractive human he had ever seen. Which would have been disastrous indeed. Damen who, on that night, may or may not have been drunk as fuck, with a half gram of cocaine in his wallet, who had made precisely zero good choices for a solid 8 weeks and _Laurent_ was absolutely not a good mix. In fact, it was nightmare fuel and in his worst moments Damen imagined what that would have looked like and had come to the conclusion Laurent would have castrated him with words and then probably physically too. It would have been the end before he even really got to speak to him.

Turns out though, speaking to him was worse than just looking at him. Or worse for Damen anyway because every time Laurent opened his mouth Damen wanted to hear more.

They weren’t close, not really. Laurent didn’t come over the way Lazar did whenever he wanted. He didn’t work out with him like Jord and he didn’t go shopping with him the way Ancel liked to make him. Their friendship was limited to nights out, random events, road trips, and the intense one-upmanship of meme swapping. And the pseudo-book club.

It wasn’t a club exactly, because it was just the two of them and they didn’t even really read the book at the same time. It was basically an excuse for Laurent to tell Damen why his opinions were wrong, and to then recommend a book in place of whatever Damen was currently reading.

Damen wasn’t even a massive book fan. Sure, he liked to read, but he hadn’t read as many books in years as he had done this year and that was just to keep up with Laurent. Most of the time he got a special kind of satisfaction from being contrary just for the sake of it.

A few weeks ago, Laurent had gone off about Dickens like the man had personally offended him. Damen didn’t like Dickens either but it was funnier to play devils advocate because that meant Laurent would switch from texts to voice notes. And when he did it was hilarious. Plus, Damen just liked to hear his voice and they weren’t really phone call or face time kind of friends. In text they spoke fine, in real life it was always a bit different. Almost like the late-night conversations about fucking Jane Austen, or whatever murder novel he’d dropped on Laurent just to annoy him, didn’t happen.

It wasn’t just the books anymore either. Which was new. As of October, Laurent had told Damen he wanted to learn how to cook and what had started as memes about his lack of ability, had progressed to photos and recipe recommendations because if there was one thing Damen knew he was good at, it was cooking. Well, that wasn’t true. He was good at maybe five other things, but he was _better than Laurent_ at cooking and that was rare. It was nice to be asked anyway, it was nice to have something with Laurent that the others didn’t share in. He’d take what he could get.

Fuck he was so fucking gone on him it was laughable. Laurent only had to send him a fucking photo of burnt toast and his stomach was flipping like he was fourteen and still a fucking virgin.

So, he had realised fairly quickly into his present meltdown, that the problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what to buy Laurent. The problem was that he didn’t know what to buy Laurent that only cost £20. In the end he’d ditched the rules and just straight up brought him a present he was definitely going to have to lie about. But he was excited to give it to him. He thought he’d done okay.

“Alright, we’re downing our drinks then we’re starting secret Santa, yeah? Agreed?” Lazar announced, standing up like having the height advantage meant he had the authority to make demands.

In his defence, not a single one of them were going to say no because, as proven with Aimeric not fifteen minutes earlier, Lazar could and _would_ bully someone into doing what he’d said.

Damen’s went down far too easily, pleasantly warm on his throat. Aimeric, on Erasmus’ other side, was grimacing mutinously because it was the second vodka, he’d be downing in fifteen minutes and Laurent’s bet was looking more and more likely not to be going in Aimeric’s favour.

When they were done and everyone was reaching for their bottles to top up, Damen realised he’d left his in the kitchen and snuck out to grab the whiskey and coke. When he returned it was to find his seat had been stolen by Nicaise, who was sitting beside Erasmus now, running deceptively gentle fingers through his curls and asking about products.

Damen cut his eyes to the vacant spot beside Laurent and he wasn’t sure if it was nerves or delight that sparked in his stomach. On one hand when he was sober, he took any excuse to be close to Laurent, on the other, he actively avoided being close to him when there was alcohol involved lest he embarrass himself.

“Whilst you’re up bring my wine in,” Laurent said, flicking his fingers toward the door and he wasn’t smiling with his mouth but Damen could see it around his eyes nonetheless.

“What did your last slave die of?”

“Disobedience,” Laurent said with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

Damen snorted but he did as he was bid. And he half hated himself for it. The truth is he’d always do what Laurent asked him to do, he couldn’t even help it. Laurent asked and Damen wanted to deliver. Back in the kitchen he couldn’t locate Laurent’s wine so he grabbed the bottle he’d brought. Not for Laurent obviously. Except definitely for Laurent because he had it bad and he couldn’t even lie about it anymore.

When he sat down beside him it was with an exaggerated huff as he handed the bottle over with a derisive _your highness_ tacked on for good measure.

“That isn’t mine,” Laurent said instantly, not even taking it from him.

“No, it’s mine,”

“But you don’t drink-“ Laurent cut himself off and his eyes flashed from the bottle to Damen and back again “Oh,” he said as he reached out to take it like it was liable to combust in his hands.

That probably wasn’t good. Because Damen definitely was not subtle. Jord had done the same thing had he not? Oh indeed. He hoped it meant _oh what a coincidence_ and not _oh you got this for me_.

Damen coughed, barely resisted the urge to swipe at the back of his neck awkwardly as Laurent just kept looking at him. It was as intense as always, like he was simultaneously looking right at him and straight through him all at once; reading his mind and splitting him open. He’d never known eyes could be weapons before he met Laurent but nothing undid Damen like a glance from him.

“This is my favourite,” Laurent said haltingly and strangely quiet into the space between them, still holding the bottle like he didn’t know what to do with it and Damen’s eyes got caught on his fingers; the way they wrapped around the neck.

Damen turned his eyes up and he was only mildly surprised to find Laurent still staring at him, leaning toward him a little. Damen could laugh it off, tell him it was because he never had the foresight to bring enough, like he didn’t know he was going to polish off more than two bottles in one night. But he didn’t. Laurent was staring at him like he was a puzzle, and his face was endearingly confused and soft in ways Laurent just wasn’t normally. He couldn’t bring himself to wipe that look away.

“I know,” he said

Laurent bit his lip, fingers tightening around the neck and Damen wasn’t sure if he had shifted closer, or if Laurent had, or if it was just his imagination; but he was aware of the lack of space between them on the love seat. He was aware of the heat down his side where Laurent hovered just out of reach, aware of the graze of his gaze and the smell of his cologne as Laurent just stared back at him.

The moment was quieter than it had a right to be considering there were nine other people in the room, all half drunk and laughing loudly. It was quiet and strange and Damen hated the way his body reacted to the stillness and Laurent’s closeness; the eye contact. He hated it because the thrum beneath his skin made him feel like he should lean in. Like it was expectation in the air between them and not confusion.

“Thank you,” Laurent said and he said it so softly Damen wasn’t even sure he’d heard him right.

“Any time,” he said, still caught on Laurent’s eyes and the way they seemed to dance, flickering across Damen’s face like he was looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t asked out loud. It should worry him, it should bother him, because he knew what his expression was most likely saying but he couldn’t look away.

Laurent opened his mouth, touching the tip of his tongue to his bottom lip for a second.

“I-“

When Lazar’s stupid booming voice erupted way too close to Damen he was not proud of how hard he flinched. Laurent snorted, ducking his chin down to hide his smile and Damen mock-glared at him before flicking his eyes up to see if anyone else had seen. It didn’t appear so, except Nicaise, who was staring at him again; feline as ever and just as judgemental. One day, not today, but one day he’d ask Nicaise what the fuck he’d done to piss him off so badly. He settled for giving him a little wave, which only made Nicaise roll his eyes.

“Alright I’ll go first then seeing as you asked,” Lazar said reaching beneath the footstool he was sitting on to Damen’s right and pulling out a half-heartedly wrapped present, which he threw at Aktis across the coffee table. Thank god it was soft.

Damen had to physically stop himself from turning back toward Laurent, aware that the spaces between them felt tense, like a page unfinished, a conversation left hanging. He wasn’t sure what Laurent had been about to say but it felt like something. It was the way he’d said _oh,_ like Damen had finally done the thing that made his not-quite-secret feelings super fucking obvious. The spike of something like adrenaline in his stomach could equally have just been plain old anxiety.

That was the problem when you wanted something badly enough; it was something you felt everywhere. It could pinch your skin and make your stomach swoop, it could make your heart pound or drop, it could make your throat dry and your brain mush and Damen hadn’t wanted anything this badly for a very, very long time. He might even go so far as to say he had never wanted anyone this badly. He tried not to inspect that too closely though for fear of what it meant.

He made himself concentrate on Aktis as he opened his gift and unveiled the t-shirt. It wasn’t even all that difficult to concentrate on him because it appeared to be a t-shirt with a photo of Aktis passed out with his head in the toilet on the front and the words _light weight_ underneath. Typical Lazar.

“It’s not enough to have this is in the group chat every other bloody week?” Aktis huffed but he was laughing as Lazar got up to bully him into wearing it.

Damen had to shift to allow Lazar passed, it meant pressing his legs against Laurent for a beat and he was ridiculously aware of it. What was he? A teenager? Christ.

When Laurent shifted, he pressed his thigh back against Damen’s and left it there. He was almost sure it was an accident and he held himself still like Laurent was a wild animal liable to bite. But he left it there and all Damen could do was breathe out and relax and let himself press his own leg a little closer. From the corner of his eye, he watched Laurent’s reaction and there wasn’t one really. Just the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t quite a smile but he’d take it. Laurent didn’t move away.

“My turn, who got me a present?” Lazar said holding his hands out expectantly, looking ten shades of excited.

His expression instantly shifted into a long-suffering groan when Nicaise was the one who moved. Despite himself Damen was curious and he couldn’t help his laugh as Nicaise dumped a bag in front of Lazar.

“To give your right hand a break,” Nicaise sniffed as he sat back down, smirking for all he was worth.

“Oh please be a flashlight,” Lazar said as he ripped open the wrapping with delighted enthusiasm.

It wasn’t a flashlight, but it was close. A blow-up doll. The room, naturally, erupted.

“Oh jokes on you, you think I won’t fuck it but I so will,” Lazar was saying already opening the box to blow it up.

“What, now? Are you putting on a show?” Laurent snorted “because if you are I’ll leave now before I throw up and waste an entire bottle of wine,”

“Shut up I could have an onlyfans, you’d love to watch,” Lazar said distractedly.

“Only blind people would like to watch you,” Laurent said in response

When fully inflated the doll was truly hideous, all ill-painted face and distractingly strange mouth, but Lazar seemed pleased. He was _definitely_ going to fuck it.

When Erasmus gave Nicaise his present Damen really wished he would have known beforehand so he could warn Nicaise not to be a dickhead for no reason. But he needn’t have worried. Erasmus got him a cuddly baby yoda, some mini shots, and some glittery nail varnish and Nicaise even managed a smile _and_ a hug. It was uncharacteristically nice of him but then, he did actually look pleased.

Pallas went next, gifting Erasmus some fancy chocolates and a snow globe with a picture of Erasmus and his dog inside it. Then it was Berenger’s turn, giving Pallas a mug of his favourite football team and a book of useless trivia because Pallas was always spouting random facts that came in handy during a pub quiz.

It was all going so well, erring on the nice side which was a surprise. But then it was Berenger’s turn and Ancel’s smirk told everyone loud and clear this gift was a little different.

“Here we go,” Laurent said under his breath, as Ancel rose up onto his knees fluidly and produced a fancy envelope for Berenger.

No one could miss the way he slinked forward, smirking already with his hair tossed over one shoulder. When he put his hand very deliberately just that little too high on Berenger’s thigh to be an accident, Damen turned to Jord who just shrugged back at him, pulling a face.

Berenger had gone very still and if his cheeks were a little pinker than normal then no one could blame him. It was an open secret that he fancied Ancel and it was equally as much of an open secret that Ancel very much wanted to climb Berenger like a tree, but for some reason nothing had happened. Apparently Ancel was done with subtle.

Berenger plucked the envelope from Ancel’s fingers and with trepidation sitting on his features he peeled it open. The whole room seemed to hold its breath and lean forward as Berenger pulled out the contents.

Damen knew instantly they were photos. From the way Berenger’s eyes bugged wide and the way he instantly pulled the neat little stack to his chest and turned a startled gaze on Ancel, Damen could well imagine what they of.

“Keep going,” Ancel said, voice like honey

“Ancel!” Berenger stressed and he sounded strangled at best.

Ancel made a dismissive gesture and nodded for him to carry on. Berenger did, flipping through about seven photos, expression flickering and cheeks getting pinker with every single one until finally he was turning his eyes back to Ancel.

Ancel smirked, canting his head “well?”

  
Berenger looked lost for words for a long moment before he was nodding, apparently transfixed “yeah,” he said and his voice had gone noticeably dry

“No come on, what the fuck are they?” Pallas asked

It was Laurent who rose and with snake like reflexes he leant across and snatched them from Berenger’s grasp. Berenger made a valiant effort to grab them back but Laurent was dropping back into his seat, eyebrows drawn down in a frown and mouth open

“Well Ancel, once again proving you can’t buy class,” he said as he flicked through the photos

“Laurent-“ Berenger tried

“Berenger,” Laurent said grinning wide “as your best friend I am telling you to say no on principle,” he said all but sticking his tongue out at Ancel as he did so.

Ancel tutted “just because you don’t fuck doesn’t mean he can’t,” he said, snidey as always even as he was grinning “and I don’t care that you’ve seen those, you can pass them round, nothing you guys haven’t seen before,” he shrugged and Damen was positive the assumption was correct.

Ancel had a penchant for taking his clothes off when he got very drunk. There was always a tipping point with Ancel, where one shot could mean the difference between wasted and _I like being free_ territory, wherein he immediately started to strip and there was nothing and no one that could stop him. If that point came in the middle of a club or in the back of a taxi, or in the middle of a street well… he didn’t give a shit.

Laurent snorted and handed them over, pushing them into Damen’s lap. Damen glanced down at the top one which was Ancel on his knees with his thighs pushed apart and _hard,_ before he immediately passed them to Lazar who definitely did more than just glance.

“What’s wrong?” Laurent asked as the rest of the room shifted to gather around Lazar to comment on Ancel’s shameless _fuck me_ request and really, Damen should have known by the tone alone not to turn to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“You barely looked, is it uninteresting to you once you’ve already seen someone like that?” Laurent asked and his tone wasn’t biting exactly but it was needling, as was his expression.

“No,” he said because he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

“Jealous then?” Laurent asked, one eyebrow up in that stupid perfect arch. And oh. That. A one night stand some _four_ months ago.

Damen snorted “fun as he is, he’s not my type,”

“What is your type?” Laurent asked “because as far as I can see the only thing Ancel, Erasmus, and Pallas have in common is that they’re all pretty,” he said “I’m surprised you’ve not fucked Nicaise yet,”

Well Damen would be lying if he said he didn’t like pretty. He liked Laurent and he was beyond just _pretty._ But Nicaise? Beautiful as he was, Damen was fairly certain going to bed with him would involve some heavy-duty drugs on both their parts. Nicaise barely tolerated Damen and Damen wasn’t turned on by faces that still looked like they belonged in a school uniform.

“I do like pretty,” he said carefully “if it’s just sex,”

“So, you spent three months dating Erasmus for just sex?” Laurent challenged and Damen really wasn’t sure why he felt like he was being attacked; why it felt like an accusation.

“Of course not,” he frowned and because he was a few drinks in and an idiot: “why are you mad at me?”

It just fell right off his tongue.

Laurent blinked, expression shutting down “don’t be ridiculous, why on earth would I be mad?” he said “I’m just curious,”

“Alright,” Damen said still feeling a little like he’d missed a step because Laurent didn’t sound particularly unaffected and he was clenching his jaw like he wasn’t impressed “well then I liked Erasmus for a lot of reasons that had nothing to do with just the way he looks,” he said carefully feeling like he was navigating a mine field and he didn’t know how he’d gotten into the middle of it.

Laurent’s eyes flickered back to him, head canting as something wicked curled at the corner of his mouth “ah so maybe that’s the difference, Erasmus is all sweet and submissive and neither Pallas nor Ancel are, right?”

Wrong. Pallas was really fucking submissive when he wanted to be, bratty, but to a purpose. But he was right about Ancel and Erasmus though. He didn’t offer Laurent that, because the insinuation in his words already felt like a slap.

“Was Jokaste submissive too? Or was that part of the reason she-“

“Oi, pay attention,” lazar said hitting Damen none too gently on the back of his head and cutting Laurent’s sentence blissfully short “have either of you got Aimeric?”

If Laurent’s previous words felt like a slap that one felt like a punch to the stomach and Damen sucked in a breath at the unexpected blow as he turned to look unseeingly at Lazar.

Whilst Damen was being interrogated, they had missed Ancel opening his present from Aimeric which was his favourite lipstick and some giant gaudy earrings that Ancel had already fastened in. Now it was Aimeric’s turn.

Right. Secret Santa.

Damen felt wrongfooted, head spinning a little and shook his head wordlessly, trying to keep the frown off his face as he sat back and polished off the rest of his drink.

But Laurent did have Aimeric and whilst Aimeric unwrapped his gift Damen fixed himself another drink; a little stronger than intended. He really wasn’t sure what had just happened but it made his entire body feel unsteady, and he tortured himself by imagining the end of Laurent’s sentence.

Was that really what he thought of Damen? Christ if it wasn’t, he didn’t really want to know how the fuck he really felt. He’d downed half his drink before Aimeric had even finished opening his gift.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aimeric hissed, colour bursting in his cheeks, drawing Damen’s eyes up. Beside him Laurent started to laugh.

“I am _not_ into fucking furries,” Aimeric hissed, tugging the gift the entire way out of the wrapper and brandishing it accusingly at Laurent.

It was a butt-plug with a tail attached to the end. Some long running joke no doubt that Laurent definitely knew would annoy Aimeric more than anything else.

“That’s a lie, you _told me_ about that time-“

“I fucking told you _not to tell anyone_ and you told _everyone_ and I didn’t even like it all that much-“

“You said it was more fun than you expected, I was only trying to help your exploration going forward, I was being _helpful_ and you’re being _ungrateful,”_ Laurent said but the effect was ruined by the laughter in his voice that was echoing around the room.

Damen couldn’t even join in; he was too hung up on his interrupted conversation with Laurent. It had been out of the blue, not entirely out of the realm of insults Laurent liked to throw around occasionally but he usually said it to the whole group, to get a laugh, not to his face just _because._ And certainly not when-

Oh.

Damen sucked in a breath as the realisation sank into him. Laurent had figured it out, hadn’t he? Finally, after all those months of Damen trying and mostly failing to hide his feelings Laurent had figured it out because of the wine and _that_ was why it sounded like an accusation.

Because he was as unimpressed with Damen’s crush as Damen had expected. He thought it was a reflection on what Damen thought about _him._ Like anyone could meet Laurent and think the word submissive.

He tuned back in, just in time for Aimeric to huff “oh just give Laurent his gift already and let him shut up,”

And oh _fuck._

Laurent turned his head expectantly, eyes going to Jord who only shook his head, before he was looking at Damen.

Damen didn’t meet his gaze, wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to because if it hadn’t been obvious before it was going to be obvious once he opened the gift.

“Oh shit, you?” Nicaise laughed “fucking good luck,” he said when he realised Damen was in fact, responsible for giving Laurent a gift.

“To be fair, no matter what it is, you had the impossible task of pleasing the most annoying bitch in the world so don’t take it too hard when he throws it straight in the bin,” Aimeric said, giving Laurent the finger.

He reached for the present and handed it over without really looking at Laurent. Laurent still had his gaze on him but with his earlier words still ringing like a bell in Damen’s head, he didn’t feel much like letting him see the hit he’d landed.

Damen had had very few incidents in his life where he desperately wanted the ground to swallow him whole, but he figured if there was ever a time for it to happen, it might as well be now. If it couldn’t have been last Christmas it might as well be this one. This was going to be fucking awful.

“Oh,” Laurent said and there it was again. _Oh._ He didn’t sound contrite, but he did sound awkward which was better than scathing.

Damen took a long swig of his drink, watching as Laurent started to unwrap it. He held his breath as everyone else decided to make a big fucking deal out of it with comments and laughs that Damen was suddenly way too fragile to deal with.

It was a 1928 edition of Alice in Wonderland with colour illustration; Laurent’s favourite book. He should have just gotten him alcohol or a big fucking neon sign that said _hey I’m really into you_.

When he’d finished unwrapping it Laurent was silent for an endless moment. A moment so long Damen fidgeted uncomfortably as Jord snorted.

“Well I’ve never seen him speechless,”

“That’s either really good or really bad,” Ancel decided and yes thank you. Damen was very much aware of that.

“No, I-“Laurent cut himself off, cleared his throat, still staring down at his lap, fingers tracing the words on the front delicately “I love it,” he breathed before lifting his gaze to Damen “this is my favourite,” he said, looking at Damen like he’d never seen him before. It was deceptively soft.

“I know,” he said, an echo of the conversation they’d had earlier but so very far from it at the same time.

“Thank you,” Laurent said and he at least sounded like he meant it.

Damen cleared his throat “you’re welcome,” he said tearing his eyes away “my turn?” he asked to distract himself and the rest of the room from the fact Laurent was still staring at him.

“Well shit,” Lazar said “did you actually get him something he _liked?”_

Damen didn’t respond but Aimeric jumped right in, taking it as an excuse to bitch Laurent out a bit more. Damen didn’t interject, just grinned thankfully when Jord held up his present.

“Which means Nikandros had me and I officially hate him, so thanks for the Gin Aktis, I’m having that thank you very much,” he said throwing Damen his present and swiping Nikandros’-would-be present from the side as he did so.

Damen caught it and unwrapped it and when he unveiled it he couldn’t help his groan or the laugh that followed.

“Oh fuck you,” he said holding out the vest that said _I flexed so hard the sleeves fell off_ which was about two sizes too small for him.

“Well all your t-shirts look in serious danger at all times, it was a warning really,” Jord said, unscrewing the Gin and taking a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Fuck off, see if I don’t wear this at the gym next time you’re with me,”

“You can’t work out in that, it’ll tear,” Jord argued

“Fucking _watch me,”_ he said and he damn well meant it too. Fair enough it would basically be a spray-on crop top but he’d do it just to embarrass Jord.

“I had to put mine on, it’s only fair you stick yours on,” Aktis said and Damen groaned, tried to deny him and then Lazar, who might genuinely try to wrestle him into it if he didn’t do it willingly.

It was probably better to get it over with. With a martyred sigh he conceded. And he tried not to notice the way Laurent had shifted away from his side so that there was no part of them touching now.

He yanked his shirt over his head and stood up as he tried to wrestle himself into the stupid vest which, as predicated, was obscenely short and horrifically tight. Any vigorous movement and he would almost definitely rip it.

“Happy now?” he grinned as he endured a bout of faux-catcalls and jibes at his expense and one or two videos that would definitely be on Instagram. Brilliant.

“Fuck me daddy,” Ancel said, voice rising just that little too much to be coincidence “oh no wait, you already did,” he smirked and Damen really had no fucking idea what to say to that when Ancel was currently sitting on Berenger’s lap. And certainly not when Laurent was sitting right there after pointing it out himself. Either way, _sorry mate_ probably wasn’t the appropriate response.

“Erm?” Berenger said looking a little confused but Ancel just threw his head back to laugh and ran fingers down his jaw. Whatever he said in response was too low to hear but made Berenger blush fiercely.

“Can I take this off now?” he asked

“No, no-“

“Leave it on-“

“Yes,”

Damen turned his head to Laurent, the only voice that had answered in the affirmative and found Laurent was staring adamantly down into his glass of wine, posture a little stiff and the fingers of his free hand curled into a fist on his thigh.

This was so much worse than Damen had feared.

He switched his t-shirts back, folding the vest as neatly as possible over the back of the chair, knowing even as he did so that he was likely to get drunk and forget it.

“Thank god, can I smoke now?” Pallas said, clambering to his feet and reaching for Damen as he did so with a wide smile “come with me,” he said even though Damen didn’t smoke and Nicaise, Aimeric and Laurent were all _right there._

But he needed to get out of that room and the air might do him good so he let Pallas pull him up. He hated that he was conscious of the way Pallas’ fingers curled into his as he was tugged along and hated even more the burn of a familiar gaze that followed him out of the room. 

Pallas led him all the way to the backdoor and when he shoved it open Damen was hit by an icy blast of air that made him instantly regret agreeing. To warm himself he finished the rest of his drink.

“What did he say?” Pallas asked as he lit the end of his cigarette and threw a quick look around Damen.

Damen blinked, caught off-guard but he really shouldn’t have been. His reaction had felt visceral so fuck knows what it had _looked_ like.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a wave of his hand which Pallas grabbed mid-wave and tugged down.

“Damen,” he chastised, squeezing his fingers

“He just mentioned Jo, caught me off guard is all, I’m fine,”

Pallas sighed “it’s alright to be feeling it today,”

And really, what did it say about Damen that he wished Jokaste was the problem. That would be easier to explain and easier to handle because he’d already dealt with all of that. Laurent though? He feared he’d never really know how to handle Laurent.

“I’m not, or wasn’t,” he said unsure which was true “I’m fine,” he said again because apparently it bore repeating.

Pallas was chewing on his lip, staring up at him with rounded eyes full of concern and he saw the exact moment he decided to drop it.

“I’m horny,” he said which was not what Damen had expected at all.

It startled a laugh out of him and Pallas grinned victoriously “for real, it’s bad, so this is basically the warning that I think I’m going to fuck Lazar,”

He definitely hadn’t seen that one coming. If he’d been putting money on it he would have said Jord if _anyone._ Lazar was not Pallas’ usual type at all. But they did talk a lot, and by talk he meant laugh. Pallas’ sense of humour was equally as childish as Lazar’s.

“Does Lazar know that?”

“Not yet,” Pallas said, sultry around an exhale of smoke.

“Guess he won’t need that blow up doll after all,”

“Nicaise will be disappointed,”

“I’ll be disappointed about what?”

His voice had them both turning around as Nicaise, Aimeric and Laurent shifted through the kitchen toward the backdoor. Nicaise looked suspicious, eyes flitting between the two of them like he expected some kind of trap. Aimeric was grinning, interested in probable gossip and Damen didn’t look at Laurent because he wasn’t quite sure he had a handle on his face yet.

It was going to be a tight squeeze, crowding them all around the back door so Damen excused himself, sliding past Aimeric and giving Pallas an amused _good luck_ as he did so. He was half way out when he felt Laurent’s hand at his elbow, barely there and light as anything but he knew it was Laurent. The others would most likely have either hit him to get his attention or just called him back.

He turned to face him, shuttering his expression as carefully as he could.

Laurent looked uncomfortable, shoulders rigid and expression tense as he looked up at Damen. Unconsciously Damen braced.

“I really do love my gift, it’s beautiful,” Laurent said and Damen tried to ignore the way his stomach reacted, or his chest. Or the way his face was trying to react.

“You’re very welcome,”

“Look, about what I said-”

“It’s fine,” he said cutting him off and forcing a smile “don’t worry about it,” he added because he really didn’t want to drag it out. He’d chalk it up to just another bastard line from Laurent and leave it at that. Until later, when he could conceivably wallow just a little and finally make an effort to not be so caught up in him. On him. If he spent a little while later that night getting whatever maudlin thoughts about Kastor out of his system too, well, it wasn’t just Laurent’s would-be comment.

Laurent frowned, eyes narrowed just a little like he was trying to figure something out and Damen couldn’t help how he shifted beneath the spot light of his gaze, fidgeting nervously.

“Is it,”

It didn’t really sound like a question, more a flat statement that didn’t have anywhere else to go. Which sounded a lot like Damen’s feelings for Laurent. To save himself from staring directly at him like Laurent was the sun and he’d go blind if he stared too long, he flicked his gaze up over his shoulder and Nicaise, again, had his eyes on them. A couple more drinks and Damen might make that hypothetical _one day_ today after all. He was watching Damen with the kind of steady regard usually reserved for someone who was in trouble. Like _he_ had been rude to Laurent and not very much the other way around.

“Course,” he made himself say before clapping him on the shoulder for good measure and turning back around.

When he went back to the living room Lazar and Aktis were setting up beer pong on the dining table at the other end of the room and were giggling like naughty school kids as they splashed different types of alcohol into the cups. Damen eyed them and the tequila bottle with no small amount of trepidation. In the armchair Berenger had his arms around Ancel still, whispering into the scant space between them and when Damen turned to Erasmus he saw his own _about time_ reflected back at him in Erasmus’ smile.

“They’re cute,” Erasmus said as he rose to his feet, preparing to shift to the table where Jord had haphazardly shoved the dining chairs against the window like front row seats to what was usually at least one person’s total undoing.

Whilst they waited for everyone else to troop back inside Ancel demanded selfies. Damen found himself squashed into several photos with Erasmus and Lazar both half in his lap to accommodate Ancel’s preferred angle and he was fairly certain Ancel would be the only one of them who looked good in any of them.

“What you got Laurent was really sweet,” Erasmus said once Ancel was done and everyone shifted away. He slid off Damen’s lap just far enough to be sitting mostly on the chair beside him.

Damen just hummed, not really offering anything but Erasmus knew him too well. He made a quiet noise and pressed closer, making a home for himself under Damen’s arm and laying a head on his shoulder.

“Tell me later,” Erasmus said quietly and Damen curled his arm around his shoulders, gave him an affectionate squeeze.

Damen didn’t miss the way Laurent’s eyes flew toward him when he came back inside a few moments later, nor did he miss the once over he gave to the total lack of space between him and Erasmus. He was thankful he chose to go sit at the opposite end of the table.

Nicaise and Ancel went first, playing against Lazar and Jord and it was fairly even. Mostly due to Nicaise and how obviously drunk Lazar now was. Damen just soaked it in, enjoying the rowdiness and the laughs and the way Erasmus buried his giggle in Damen’s chest every now and then.

When Lazar and Jord had been beaten they swapped for Berenger and Aktis who had a bit of a long-standing beer pong feud now, after so many close calls. No longer occupied by the game, Lazar started bullying people into tequila shots and Damen didn’t try to deny him. When the bottle made its way to him, he took one without hesitating and then passed it off to Pallas who was making good on his warning about Lazar, draped all over him and pressing a smile into his neck.

The atmosphere was loose, loud and warm, and Damen didn’t have to fake feeling good about it. So long as he didn’t let himself look at Laurent too often he found his good mood was entirely genuine.

But he did look at Laurent. He looked at him far too much. Sometimes their gazes caught and held, sometimes Laurent was talking, getting more and more animated the more he drank, sometimes he was just listening, quiet and deceptively soft. He was almost sure, once or twice, that he felt Laurent watching him when he wasn’t looking but that was probably his imagination.

Damen was nursing a pleasant buzz so he wasn’t sure what it was that made him check his phone. He hadn’t felt it vibrate but he pulled it out of his pocket as though he had. Like some part of him knew. He had two unread messages. Both from the same person sent some 15 minutes apart.

**_ Jokaste _   
** _I’m sorry this is out of the blue, but can we talk? Can I call you?  
Please Damen._

He sucked in a breath, confusion warring with the warmth of the alcohol in his system to create a strange discomfort in his stomach. Erasmus must have felt him stiffen because he turned his eyes up. Damen felt his glance, knew he must be turning his eyes down to the phone Damen was holding like it had suddenly turned into a bomb.

“What does she want?”

He had no fucking clue.

**_ You  
_ ** _What for?_

He knew from the way Erasmus made a distressed noise and hit him in the arm that he probably shouldn’t have replied and he was proven right ten seconds later when his phone lit up with an incoming call. It didn’t feel like a slap the way Laurent’s words had felt earlier. It felt more like an annoying niggle that Damen just couldn’t ignore.

It was strange seeing her name on his screen again. It had been months since they’d last spoken. She’d called once or twice in the middle of summer and he hadn’t told anyone but she’d tried to apologise; asked if they could meet up. He had been an idiot to meet her for coffee and he’d regretted it instantly. When she had asked if they could meet up again, he had shut her down and it had been radio silence ever since.

“Don’t answer her,” Erasmus said

Despite himself he got to his feet because he wanted to know. If she was calling it was probably about tomorrow. He hated himself for it a little bit.

“Damen,” Erasmus called after him as he made his way from the room, loud enough for everyone to hear the note of warning in his voice “don’t answer it, she doesn’t-“ Damen threw a glance over his shoulder, and hated the looks that were being sent his way.

Erasmus looked concerned, Pallas looked confused and when he met Laurent’s gaze, he had no idea what he was seeing on his face. He was probably better off not knowing.

He didn’t respond, just went out into the kitchen and hit answer.

He didn’t say anything when he put the phone to his ear and shut the kitchen door. He continued to not say anything whilst he jammed the phone against his shoulder and fixed himself another drink.

“Damen?” her voice was so familiar to him that he knew from just that one word that she had been crying.

It was an odd sensation, knowing it and caring because he wasn’t an asshole, but the space in his chest that had felt like a sutured wound for so long didn’t throb at the sound of it.

“What do you want Jo?” he said, proud of how steady his voice was.

Damen had switched to vodka, mostly because there wasn’t another open whiskey on the side.

On the other end of the line Jokaste sniffed “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said and he could imagine her scowl, the frustrated way she would be swiping at any errant tears on her face.

“It sounds like you’re crying and drinking and calling your ex,” he said leaning back against the counter

She huffed “Damen,” she said and he was no stranger to the exasperated way she was saying his name. He used to hate it. Now he quite enjoyed it “you know what I mean, I mean with- this, all this,”

“Actually, I really don’t know what you mean,”

“How did we get here?” she asked and well, fuck if he knew.

“Jo-“

“You know we argued tonight, again, and it was awful and he still went out, I was crying and he left and he won’t be back for hours and he didn’t care,”

Yeah that sounded like Kastor. He took a swig of his drink.

“You never would have done that,” she said “you wouldn’t have- he’s not like you,”

“No,” He said “I don’t imagine he is,”

“I think,” she swallowed “I don’t think he really loves me,” she said and her voice was thin, like it cost her something to admit it “I don’t think it was ever about me at all,”

Damen had never been sure either. He wanted to believe Kastor loved her, he wanted to believe the best of him, even now, for her sake he wanted it to be real. But he had always doubted it. Maybe that’s why it had hurt so much. Kastor had just done it because he could. Specifically, to hurt him. And now it was hurting her too.

Despite everything, despite all the times he had said otherwise in the months following their break up, he wanted her to be happy. Somewhere along the line the wound had healed, things had changed and it didn’t hurt anymore, not like it had. It had probably never really been her that had hurt him to start with.

Three years was a long time to spend with someone and the way it had ended had been nothing short of a disaster. But the further away from it he got, the more he realised he hadn’t actually loved her the way he had thought he had. Which might have been the problem all along. There was very little Jokaste couldn’t read on him, she had probably known it too.

If it had been anyone but Kastor he might have forgiven it all a lot sooner. It might be well in the past and not a shadow looming over them even now. But Kastor? That he couldn’t swallow. It was a different kind of sting, a different betrayal. You half expected, at least subconsciously, that a romantic partner could screw you over at some point. When it was your family, or your friend, it was much, much worse.

“I wish I could tell you what you want to hear Jo but-“

“You don’t know what I want to hear,” she said “you don’t know how I feel,”

There was an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, like an awareness that she was going to say something he didn’t want to hear. It was the same awareness he’d had with Kastor all afternoon last Christmas, the itch that couldn’t be scratched, the restlessness of something akin to anxiety that permeated the air.

“Why did you call Jo?” he asked and behind him he heard the kitchen door click open. The sound from the other room was a little quieter now and he didn’t doubt that they had been talking about this for a while. He fully expected Pallas looking murderous or Erasmus looking concerned, he did not expect to turn and see Laurent standing with his back against the kitchen door staring at him with his unreadable eyes that always flashed like thunder.

He didn’t know what it meant, whether he should brace or breathe a sigh of relief but he was so distracted he almost missed what Jokaste said.

“I made a mistake,”

He didn’t respond for a moment, distracted by the way Laurent was just staring back at him, face soft and curious but more concerned than anything he might have feared.

“What mistake?” he asked not taking his eyes off Laurent even though he hadn’t moved or said anything.

“With Kastor,” she said exasperated like Damen was an idiot “leaving you, I should never have- Damen I’m so sorry,”

Damen blinked, tearing his eyes away from Laurent and turning away altogether as he breathed out “fucking Christ Jo you called to say that _now?”_ he said because what the fuck?

“I know, I know it’s shitty timing but Damen I can’t stop- I regret it, I have since- Damen is there a chance?”

“A chance for what? _Us_?” he said and he wasn’t proud of the note of hysteria that had crept into his voice, the way it had gone up incredulously. What was happening? What the fuck was she _doing?_ An argument with Kastor and what? She thought she could take it all back? Like the whole year hadn’t happened? Like they could reset everything?

Didn’t she know? Didn’t she see they were always bound to end up like this? They weren’t right, they’d never been right. They hadn’t been happy they’d just been comfortable. If it hadn’t been Kastor last year it would have been someone else at some other point. It might even have been him. He was a loyal person, he had never cheated on anyone in his life but he couldn’t escape the thought that flashed the exact shade of Laurent’s eyes in his head. What would he have done if he’d met Laurent when he was still with her?

Across the room Laurent made a disgruntled sound and his expression was the exact kind of aghast that Damen figured his own face was sporting.

“Yes, for us,” Jokaste said

“No,” Damen said “Jo I don’t love you, you- what… why would you _ever_ think that I would want- I…?”

Laurent moved then, coming toward him with the kind of purpose that usually made Damen nervous. He had his hand held out and his face set into one of righteous indignation. He didn’t even really think about it as he handed him the phone. He probably should have; god only knew what damage Laurent could cause with unfettered access to his phone like that. To Jokaste.

Laurent immediately hit speaker and held the phone up toward them like he was on hold with HMRC and he was going to kick the fuck off the second he heard a human voice. Damen bit his lip, watching him intently. He had no idea why he was so angry but then, nothing Laurent ever did made much sense to him.

“Because I’m sorry, because I love you, because it was the worst mistake-“

“If you loved him to start with you never would have cheated on him, would you? Let alone with his brother so-“

“Who the fuck is that? Am I on speaker?”

“Yes, you’re on speaker, my name is Laurent and I wasn’t finished,” he said and his voice was decidedly cool even though Damen could see the tick at his jaw and the fire in his eyes “you don’t get to do what you did then play the regret card; you can’t say sorry like it was just a mistake, a mistake is something you do on accident, and unless Kastor repeatedly slipped and ended up with his cock in you I’m not sure how you can have sex by accident over a span of what? Two months? Four? Whatever, inconsequential, you ruined last Christmas you don’t get to ruin this one for him so goodbye Jokaste, I’m pretty sure this is what making your bed and lying in it feels like, grow the fuck up and handle your shit but leave Damen out of it,”

“Damen-“

Laurent hung up before Jokaste could respond and Damen just fish-mouthed for a moment. When Laurent turned his gaze up, he looked contrite, holding out Damen’s phone as his eyes shifted away and back again like he didn’t really know where to place them.

“Well you weren’t going to say it,” he said as Damen accepted his phone back.

Laurent crossed his arms defensively and Damen couldn’t quite understand what had just happened. He was right though; he wouldn’t have said it. He wasn’t sure what had been bubbling up in his chest beyond _what the fuck._

He didn’t know what the fuck to say now either. Laurent had been giving him whiplash all night as it was but this was slightly outside their scope as friends. He liked it far more than he should; appreciated it far more than Laurent could know.

“Did Pallas tell you to do that?” he asked narrowing his eyes

Laurent went rigid, eyes skittering away to some unknown point on the opposite wall, expression completely indecipherable.

“I snuck out,” he admitted “I knew they’d try to stop me coming in,”

“Why did you?”

It didn’t make sense but there was a traitorous hopeful part of him that simmered in the look on Laurent’s face, that soaked up the anger he’d had pouring from his eyes when he’d heard what Jokaste said. Laurent had cared enough to come in after him. He didn’t know why or what that meant but it made him smile before he could stop himself.

Laurent clocked it, turning suspicious eyes on him as Damen grinned, tucking his chin down to try to hide it a little. Laurent looked away again immediately, but there was a small smile playing around his mouth as he did so and some of the air seemed to deflate from the bubble of tension Damen had been carrying with him since Laurent took a verbal swing earlier.

“She’s wasted quite enough of your time, don’t you think?” Laurent said in answer to the question Damen had quite forgotten he had asked.

“Well yeah but it’s not all been bad,”

Laurent canted his head in question and Damen could only shrug ruefully.

“I wouldn’t really have met you guys if she hadn’t screwed me over so,”

“What? So it was worth it?” Laurent asked sceptically, eyebrows raised as he dropped his arms and turned into Damen.

“I think so,”

Laurent stared up at him like he had said something alien, something incomprehensible and maybe it sounded that way when he couldn’t say what he really meant. He loved his friends, he did, he loved his life right now, but if he couldn’t have them all, he’d have traded the pain of what he went through just to know Laurent. Just him. Something of it was probably showing on his face because Laurent ducked his head down, fingers picking and playing with the edge of the tea towel abandoned on the counter.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, you didn’t deserve it,” he said

The accusation that hadn’t really been an accusation. It had still stung though. He wondered if the words would have felt the same coming from someone he cared about less.

“Okay, thank you but it’s not necessary, it’s fine,”

Because it was done, Laurent had taken the sting out of it now whether it had been his intention or not. Damen wasn’t afraid to admit he was just that easy. Laurent sighed, pushed his hands back down to his sides and Damen watched him square his shoulders, tip his head up and breathe out like he didn’t want to meet Damen’s gaze still. But he did it anyway.

“It doesn’t sound fine and you’ve barely looked at me since,” Laurent said holding Damen’s gaze as though to prove a point.

It absolutely wasn’t true. He’d been staring at Laurent all night. Laurent had even caught him half the time. How much did he normally look at him for Laurent to consider tonight _less_ by those standards?

And it _was_ fine. He didn’t understand but it was fine.

“I’m just confused, I’m not sure what I did or why you got mad,” he said

Laurent looked pained for a beat, closing his eyes and half looking away from him “I’m not mad at you,” he said with a voice that sounded exactly like he might actually be mad at him.

“You sounded pretty mad,”

Laurent grimaced, shook his head “It’s not that,” he huffed

“Then what?”

Laurent just stared at him and Damen got the distinct impression that Laurent thought he was an idiot.

“You can’t be that stupid,” Laurent said and he sounded like he was despairing.

Damen frowned “apparently I can be,”

Laurent moved so quickly he barely had chance to react, he was standing on his tip toes and reaching up to drag him down and when their mouths met Damen’s eyes went wide instead of slamming closed. His whole body froze uncomprehendingly and maybe he _was_ an idiot.

It was brief, it was hard, it was possibly the most surprising thing to ever happen to him and Damen’s brain switched off entirely, unable to comprehend what was happening when it was just so startlingly improbable.

Laurent let go, taking a step back and Damen could only blink at him. Laurent was breathing unevenly, as though he had taken a running jump off a high cliff, and his eyes were wide, unsettled, shifting and skittering away from Damen. There was a pretty blush staining his cheeks, making him look rosy and awkward as he opened his mouth and closed it several times.

Laurent blushing, looking awkward, unable to form a sentence, _and_ kissing Damen were all such impossible things that Damen could only blink back at him whilst his heart did its best to trip over itself in his chest.

“Say something,” Laurent huffed, folding his arms again.

There was nothing coming out of his stupid mouth. He wanted to ask him if he was real, if this was real, or just part of some weird fever dream but all he could manage was a shake of his head; as though that could clear it.

“Erm… I don’t-“

Laurent grimaced “forget I did that,” he said as he stiffened and turned around to walk away. It was that more than anything that finally sparked life back into Damen.

Damen hooked his fingers around Laurent’s elbow and dragged him back around to face him. Laurent looked more awkward than Damen could ever remember seeing him and there was a scowl forming on his face.

“I shouldn’t have,” Laurent said and it was strained, forced out “forget I-“

Damen swooped down then, cupping the back of his neck to draw him closer and kissed him the way he should have. It was brief, firm and hard as though he could kiss him hard enough to imprint the feel of it there forever; to show him just how long he’d wanted it.

“I’m not going to forget it,” he said against his mouth, voice low, lips still brushing Laurent’s as he spoke.

When he drew back Laurent still had his eyes closed for a moment but when he opened them, they were darker and he was breathing out shakily “oh,” he said “that’s… that’s good,” he said and Damen was so painfully endeared he couldn’t help his smile.

Laurent just sucked in a breath, fingers dancing up his chest until he was touching the pad of one finger lightly to where Damen knew there would be a dimple. He wasn’t sure which one of them leaned back in but this kiss was different; slower, the way the first should have been.

Laurent’s mouth was soft and sweet beneath Damen’s, and when he gave a little gasp Damen took the opportunity to kiss him deeper. He slipped his tongue inside, revelled at the way Laurent’s fingers clenched on his chest and his body melted against him. Not for the first time that night Damen had no idea what was happening but Laurent was kissing him back, Laurent had _kissed him_ and Damen wanted to commit it all to memory.

Laurent’s kiss was tentative, not like he didn’t know what he was doing, but rather, like Damen, he wasn’t sure that this was real. When Damen turned them and pressed Laurent back against the counter the breath stuttered out of Laurent and any tentativeness with him. He groaned, fingers going up to Damen’s hair where they curled against his scalp and tugged him down harder. Damen’s hands responded, clenching hard at Laurent’s hips as he tilted his head as directed, allowing Laurent to dictate.

Laurent kissed the way he did everything else; precisely and with no room to argue. Damen absolutely did not want to argue. He poured it all into the kiss, fuelled by desire, and frustration, and a few shots of Tequila but the desperation was all too real.

He reached down, fingers digging into Laurent’s thigh as he drew his leg up against his hip, pressed against him harder and ignored the clink of glass and rustle of shifting plastic as whatever was on the counter behind Laurent was pushed back. Laurent made a needy sound into his mouth and without breaking the kiss he lifted Laurent entirely, aware something was knocked over because of the sudden sound of crashing glass.

The laugh against his mouth had the kiss breaking and Laurent blinked back at him from his perch on the counter with amusement on his face. He rarely smiled like that; full and genuine and so bright it made Damen suck in a breath.

At the same time, they both turned, trying to see if anything had smashed on the counter behind him and when it appeared nothing had actually broken, Laurent’s arms again went around Damen’s shoulders.

“I always said you were a big lumbering idiot,” he grinned and the expression on his face was wildly at odds with his words.

“Pretty sure it was your arse that did the damage,” Damen replied, hands skimming up Laurent’s thighs so that he could cup his palms around his hips.

“You like my arse,” he said and though his eyebrows had the same haughty air as normal it sounded almost like a question.

“Obviously,” he said “now who’s an idiot?” he grinned and before Laurent could respond he was kissing him again.

It appeared as though he’d found a way to curtail his retorts because Laurent let it go and drew Damen closer, let Damen between the spread of his thighs and kissed him hotly.

When the door behind them swung open Damen sprang away from him on reflex as Laurent slid down from the counter; the both of them a little wide eyed. He probably wasn’t the only one who had forgotten where they were.

It was Pallas, blinking as he turned startled, drunken eyes from the two of them to the kitchen door and back again “shit, what kind of,” he moved the door back and forth a little as though testing a creak “parallel fucking universe did I just-“

Laurent snorted and Damen groaned before Pallas giggled and shut the door again.

“Just like, checking on you, been a while and you were- Jokaste called?”

“Yeah,” he said because had she? He couldn’t remember a single thing she’d said, it had all fallen by the wayside when Laurent had kissed him, paling in comparison.

“And?” Pallas demanded, hands on hips and hurrying him with a gesture.

“I told her to fuck off,” Laurent answered for him and Pallas’ eyebrows went up as he looked steadily at Laurent and Damen in turn.

“Right,” he snorted “I see,” he said grinning slowly “well if you go now, I can probably buy you twenty minutes before Lazar calls bullshit and follows you upstairs,” he winked as he turned around and left again.

The insinuation made Damen’s entire body feel hot and when he met Laurent’s gaze the embers crackled to life. Laurent had gone pink again and it was quickly becoming Damen’s favourite thing in the world.

They just stared, listening as the music got louder in the next room and Damen recognised Jord’s anthem playlist which was sure to create more noise. He wanted. Fuck he had never wanted anything or anyone as badly before and he was fairly certain his expression was oozing with that exact sentiment.

Laurent was the one who moved, darting forward and grabbing his hand, jabbing Damen with one dangerous elbow when he laughed as Laurent swung the kitchen door open. They weren’t quiet as they all but ran up the stairs, thankful Pallas had at least shut the living room door to hide their retreat.

When they reached the landing, Laurent turned, pressing himself back up against Damen and reaching for his mouth. Damen swooped down to meet him, kissing him soundly as they went stumbling blindly down the corridor towards Jord’s spare room.

The slam as Laurent’s back hit the door was loud and Laurent groaned into it, spearing his tongue into Damen’s mouth as he reached for the handle and they all but fell into the room. Damen kicked the door shut and plunged them into the semidarkness where the open curtains and night beyond was the only light.

They didn’t separate long enough to flick the light on, the door closed and Laurent was tearing at Damen’s shirt, fingers scrambling to pull it over his head. Damen let him, gasping when Laurent immediately set about mapping his chest and stomach with curious fingers and demanding mouth.

Damen bit his lip, heart hammering in his chest as Laurent bit down, first at his chest, scant inches from a pebbling nipple and then higher; a red mark left at his collar bone and then, finally, a deep sucking bruise at his hammering pulse point. When Damen let out a little gasp Laurent’s hands went into his hair, tugging him down, sucking harder at his skin. Damen was helpless to surrender his throat to Laurent’s intent.

When Laurent pulled back his eyes were still on Damen’s neck and the heat in his gaze had Damen groaning at the pleased possessiveness of it. Laurent leant up, half a smile crooking at the corner of his mouth, and Damen kissed him soundly for a long moment before pulling back.

“No, wait, stop-“

Laurent dropped his hands instantly, staring at him expectantly, an almost frown on his face.

“Don’t you want-“

It was too ridiculous a thought to even think about letting him finish it.

“Fuck, I really fucking do,” he said cupping his face and leaning down to press their foreheads together and he half imagined the intensity of a moment ago crackling in the scant space between them “but it-“ he tried again “I can’t if it’s just- this once, I don’t think I can do that, you’d ruin me,”

He was well aware as he said it that he might well be absolutely ruining his one and only chance to have Laurent like this. He knew it and he said it anyway. He had no fucking idea what Laurent was thinking, what he wanted, until thirty minutes ago he was half operating on the assumption that he made Laurent uncomfortable- or that his feelings did- or that he was mad at him and he wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten to the bedroom.

He couldn’t risk it. Not with Laurent.

Laurent swallowed but he looked helpless and hopeless and he just shook his head back at him, reaching up to touch the corner of his jaw so gently Damen barely even felt it. When he spoke, his voice was shaky.

“Not just tonight, I want- all of it… I just can’t wait anymore, you’ve already made me wait-“

“ _I_ made _you_ wait?”

“It’s not my fault you’re oblivious,” Laurent said and if Damen didn’t know better, he’d say he was pouting.

All at once it just made sense. It had been expectation in the air between them, Laurent’s needling, his sidelong glances, the late-night conversations, and venom he’d spat with his eyes when he realised what Jokaste had been saying.

Laurent was right. He really was an idiot.

“If you say this whole time, I’m going to throw myself into oncoming traffic,” he said, voice entirely neutral considering he was deadly serious.

Laurent’s lips twitched, barely suppressing a laugh “you are absolutely not doing that until after you’ve fucked me,”

Damen was an idiot. He was possibly the biggest idiot that had ever existed.

“Oh my god,”

Laurent’s smile was sweet as he pressed back against him, mouth making a soft trail up his neck “make it up to me,”

“Whatever you want,” Damen promised and the gleam in Laurent’s eyes was wicked, instantly stirring heat in his lower belly.

He just hummed and held Damen’s gaze as his fingers went to the waistband of Damen’s jeans where he made quick work of the belt “anything?” Laurent asked, slow and sultry like the taste of whiskey on Damen’s tongue as he splayed his jeans open for him one button at a time.

“Anything,” he reaffirmed, cupping him by the back of his head to draw him in for a kiss that was too wet and too much breath but made both of them groan.

“I just want you to fuck me, you can make love to me after the third date or whatever,” Laurent said against his mouth, sliding Damen’s jeans down over his hips enough to free his cock.

“See you can laugh, but that is what I want,”

Laurent paused, a helpless expression on his face “Damen,” he breathed sweet and soft against his mouth “me too,”

“Yeah?”

Laurent nodded, abandoning his task and winding his arms around Damen’s neck instead as their mouths came back together. Damen couldn’t resist, it felt like nothing to lift him, to carry him the few paces to the bed. When he started to lower him Laurent tightened his limbs, smiling against his mouth and a huff of laughter escaping him when his back didn’t hit the mattress right away as Damen climbed up onto all fours; Laurent still clinging beneath him.

He snorted, pressing Laurent down and the laughter was still in his features when Damen pulled back to gaze down at him. His hair was already tousled, fanning out against the sheets in golden waves, his smile was wider than Damen had ever seen and in the darkness his eyes veritably shone.

Damen had never been in love like this.

They didn’t have time to do all the things he wanted to do. Not at that moment. But they would have it later. And Laurent had asked. Damen, naturally, was inclined to deliver.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, leaning over him.

Laurent swallowed and Damen reached out, hand going around his throat to follow the feel of it, palm sliding down, catching on the neck of Laurent’s shirt as Laurent stretched his arms above his head, pressing up into Damen’s hand as he made a hard possessive trail from his sternum to his cock, straining in his jeans.

Laurent groaned, pushing up with a wicked smile as Damen got him out of his jeans. Laurent looked like a dream, with his thighs shifting apart and his hard cock on display, t-shirt still on and as dishevelled as the rest of him; Damen feared if he looked overlong, he’d never look away.

“Well?” Laurent asked, smirking as though he knew how entirely disarmed Damen was.

In response Damen reached for him, skirting up his thighs and bypassing all the places he knew Laurent wanted the attention. Instead, he flipped him and Laurent breathed out in a whoosh, cursing as he ducked his head to the bedding and lifted his hips up, thighs squeezing together beneath Damen’s wandering hands.

“Please Damen,”

He wanted to ruin him, make a mess of him and then clean him back up with tongue, and lips, and hands, but the music downstairs was a heavy thrum, voices filtering upwards in unintelligible shouts, and the darkness and the alcohol gave the whole thing a heady unreal quality that said _now._

He crawled up Laurent’s body, letting him feel the heat of him, of them, as he pressed his mouth to his ear and reached blindly for the bedside table. If Jord had cleaned out the drawer from the last time Damen had accidentally ended up in here then he was going to kill him.

“Please what baby?”

Laurent beneath him shuddered, lifting his hips for the press of Damen’s cock, rocking up against him.

“Fuck me,”

He found his bounty, threw it onto the bed as he reached for Laurent again, sliding back down his body, eyes fastened on the feast he’d made of himself. He bunched Laurent’s t-shirt in his fists, pushing it up to expose the dimples at the bottom of his spine to his tongue, let himself tease at what he really wanted as his tongue found its way between Laurent’s cheeks.

Damen spread him open with his hands, heard Laurent’s breath hitch as he licked at him for a moment, spitting and prodding with his tongue.

“Oh god,” Laurent groaned, pushing back against Damen’s face and in his mind, he had the flash of desire, of Laurent riding his face until he came on just his tongue. But not right now.

With a groan he pulled back, reaching for the lube he slicked a couple fingers, gathered his spit still shining against Laurent’s skin and pressed a finger into him. Laurent hummed, hips canting up and back as he nodded against the sheets and asked for more.

Damen plunged two inside, twisting enough to coat him, feeling him out, watching Laurent’s back as a shudder crept up his spine and escaped his mouth on a low exhale; ribboning out of him as he started to fuck himself on Damen’s fingers.

Before Damen would have stopped, before he really thought Laurent was ready, Laurent was batting at him, wriggling his hips “yes, good, okay, that’ll do, get in me,” he said, voice strained as he threw a dark look over his shoulder.

He was flushed, eyes dark and a little glassy and his bottom lip was bitten red. He didn’t need telling twice. He rolled the condom on as quickly as he could, coated himself and moved back over him. He gathered Laurent’s wrists in his hands to stretch them higher above his head, pressing them down and holding him there as he let his chest curve into his back; caging him in with his body.

Laurent turned his head against the mattress, breathing raggedly, a needy noise escaping him when he felt Damen’s cock nudging the smooth firm curve of his perfect ass. He pushed his knee up and in, urging sleek thighs to part for him. And part they did.

“Fuck me,” Laurent moaned into the bedding, lifting his hips invitingly and then releasing a broken choked moan when Damen reached down and did just that; sinking into the tight welcoming heat of his body.

He surged forward, growling as he bent low over Laurent and pressed him into the mattress. Beneath him Laurent squirmed, flexing his hips and breathing a word that sounded like his name.

It was the tightest heat Damen had ever encountered and he had to squeeze his eyes closed as he fed his cock into Laurent’s body inch by inch. Laurent took him, body tensing and then going sweetly docile as he swore and pushed his hips back on him. His imagination had absolutely nothing on the reality; the dream like disbelief that accompanied the thought that sparked fire down Damen’s spine: he was inside him.

He gripped Laurent’s wrists hard, watched with unending fascination as Laurent’s body rippled beneath him, flexing against the hold Damen had on him without attempting to break it.

“Oh fuck, _Damen,_ please,”

He groaned, pulling out and pushing back in, testing, probing, and when Laurent only breathed out in a rush and canted his hips back, he slammed in harder.

“ _Yes,”_

Laurent writhed beneath him, mouthing at the bedding to muffle the noises as Damen fucked into him, holding him down and thrilling to the way Laurent let him, begged for it, nodded beneath him, breathed words like _don’t stop_ and _yes._

Damen had no intention of stopping, he shoved Laurent’s thighs further apart with his knees, opening him up wider and bracing him for _harder_. The breath was punched out of him with every rolling thrust and they shifted up the bed with the force, their bodies coming together hard and fast. Laurent writhed, shifting under him, with him, mumbling words into the bedding as Damen fucked him.

He lifted up, reached down to Laurent’s hips to tug him higher. Laurent whimpered, angling up as he shoved onto his elbows, accepting the slam of Damen’s hips and the harsh scrape of his teeth against his shoulder with punched out moans that Damen would be hearing in his dreams for a long time.

Laurent bruised like a peach, he’d have marks, evidence of this night, would feel it for hours, maybe days if Damen could help it; finger bruises at his hips, the indent and scrape of Damen’s belt buckle at his thighs where his soft skin met unforgiving denim and metal, the pulse and echo of Damen’s cock inside him where he buried himself over and over, circling, grinding, thrusting as Laurent’s body started to tremble beneath his hands.

With a groan he pulled out, thrilling to the needy disappointment that Laurent let out until Damen turned him over, flipping his legs over his shoulders and sinking back into his body in one quick move.

Laurent’s head slammed back, mouth falling open as his hands went instantly to Damen’s arms, nails digging in as Damen fucked him hard and fast and watched his face intently. When Laurent met his gaze and moaned his name Damen’s hips stuttered, faltering just long enough for Laurent to lean up, fasten their mouth together in a kiss that was more tongue and breath than anything else. When he pulled back Laurent’s expression hit him somewhere deep in his chest and he could only nod, reaffirming words Laurent hadn’t said out loud but were evident on his face; in flushed cheeks and intense dark eyes that looked back at him like this was the only thing that mattered.

Laurent shuddered with each snap of his hips, hand going down between them and Damen could only turn his eyes down to watch as Laurent bunched his t-shirt in one hand, tugging it away from his cock as he started to stroke fast and light around himself.

When Laurent came Damen felt it in his entire body. He felt it in the rhythmic tremor of Laurent’s muscles around him and in the unrestrained flex and fuck of his hips. It was in the shudder of his thighs that bracketed Damen’s riveted face and the flush that darkened on his cheeks and neck, as his mouth parted around noises that didn’t come; body pulled taut.

Damen could only swear, fuck him through it, drag it out as he fucked into him over and over, eyes trained on Laurent who was still twitching around him, looking up at him as Damen’s’ body strained toward an end that he didn’t want to actually find.

But he found it with a long, startled groan as it ripped out of him, a stutter and falter in his rhythm as he buried himself deep and held himself there, grinding into Laurent as his name tore its way from Damen’s throat.

He collapsed down over him, burying his face in his neck for a long breathless moment as Laurent went boneless beneath him, one hand still tangled in Damen’s hair, thighs now bracketing his hips, ass still squeezing around his cock.

If they had time, if they were at home, Damen would nurse the spark of arousal still alive in his veins, would grind into him and against him, rubbing at all of Laurent’s too-sensitive spots until he was fully hard again, could flip them and watch Laurent ride him. But that had to wait.

He pulled out, smiling into Laurent’s shoulder at the almost disappointed breath that came from him as he did so. His body still felt like a live wire as he pushed himself up, snapping off the condom and making a somewhat valiant effort to throw it in the general direction of the bin near the door.

Laurent didn’t move, just stared up at him with his legs still spread, thighs still wet, and body relaxed as he threw an arm up over his head.

“I can’t move,” Laurent said, still a bit breathless

Damen chuckled, sliding back over him until he could find his mouth like he was compelled there by the smile on Laurent’s face.

“Worth the wait?”

“Fuck yes,” Laurent said, letting Damen taste his tongue for a moment before pulling back and giving him a shove “get my jeans,”

Damen snorted but stood up to do as bid, hitching his jeans back over his hips as he made it to the end of the bed. If he threw Laurent’s jeans directly at his face then it was entirely an accident.

Laurent huffed, only half-heartedly swearing at him as he yanked them on. Damen was not ashamed of the way he just let himself watch, rueing the loss of all that pale skin.

“Like what you see?” Laurent managed, not going any further than sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed with his jeans on but still open, t-shirt slipping over one shoulder, and his eyes glued to Damen’s bare chest.

“Yes,” he said as he bent down to grab at his shirt. He didn’t put it on yet though, he liked the way Laurent was looking at him too much “honestly I’m just surprised I didn’t do something stupid the first night we met,”

“Stupid like what? Hitting on me?” Laurent asked eyes still on Damen. And not on his face.

“Exactly,” Damen said stretching his arms above his head mostly just to watch Laurent’s eyes track the movement.

“You did,” Laurent said distractedly, eyes still pinned to Damen’s torso.

“I’m sorry _what_?”

Damen didn’t think he was a dramatic person, maybe once or twice when there were extenuating circumstances, but he thought he might genuinely die if that was true. Because. Christ. That was basically his worst nightmare made manifest.

Laurent frowned, meeting his gaze, head canted.

“You did hit on me,” he said and he sounded slightly confused.

Damen blinked, brain short-circuiting before he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably and oh fucking shit _what._

“I did… oh my god, what the fuck did I do?” he groaned burying his face in the shirt he still held in one fist.

“You don’t remember?” Laurent asked and when Damen looked up, he found Laurent staring at him like something was finally making sense to him.

It was probably something along the lines of _: that explains how the fuck he’s been able to look me in the eye this whole time._

“No, no I really don’t, holy shit, I’m _so_ sorry,”

Laurent snorted then, shaking his head, and there was something like relief in the way his shoulders relaxed.

“I thought you remembered,”

“What did I do?” he asked before frowning “and why the fuck have you not been teasing me relentlessly about it all this time?”

Because that didn’t _sound_ like Laurent. It didn’t sound like Laurent _at all._

There was something in Laurent’s gaze, in the twist of his mouth and the nervous flicker of his eyes that made Damen pay attention.

“Laurent?”

“I thought you remembered, so I didn’t say anything because _you_ never said anything,”

It clicked. Just like that. Fucking hell, how many ways could he conceivably find out he was an actual fucking _idiot_ in one night? How the fuck could he have gotten things so fucking wrong?

Well probably because Laurent was a dream and he was crazy fucking in love with him and had been for quite a while. It was _so_ much easier to think he didn’t stand a chance. So much more likely given he spent the first three months of the year wallowing in a sea of despair courtesy of his brother.

“And you were disappointed,” he said and Laurent nodded fractionally “what happened?”

“You came onto me; I was a bit drunk and you were… well you were very drunk and I said if you meant it you could ask me again when you were sober and you said okay…” Laurent shrugged and clearly there was a whole lot he was missing out of that but Damen didn’t press him “and you never did so…”

Months. Fucking months.

“And then you started dating Erasmus,” Laurent said with a hint of a sour expression and oh. Fuck.

He had. He’d met Laurent and then a few weeks later he started dating Erasmus and there was no way Laurent could know that he had never stopped looking at him. He hadn’t been able to look away from Laurent from the moment they met _apparently._ He just didn’t think he stood a chance and he’d been a little bit broken and so was Erasmus and Damen had needed that relationship. He’d needed the transition from break down to build up, he’d needed to let his guard down and he’d needed something simple and easy and sweet. Something that his whole world didn’t shift around.

Laurent could shift his world with a glance, tilt his universe with a word. All Damen would have been able to give him nine months ago was a headache.

But it did explain a lot.

“Is that why Nicaise doesn’t like me?”

Laurent snorted, apparently surprised “Yes, he thought- well he thought you were a prick,”

Damen frowned “god Laurent I didn’t know and then I just- you’re… _you_ and I was a mess and you made me-“

“Made you?”

“Nervous,” he laughed “I just assumed you didn’t- and then-“ he groaned swiped a hand down his face “I wasn’t in a great place when I was with Erasmus, it was never going to last,”

“I know,” Laurent said “I think if we’d dated back then things would have gone wrong, you weren’t over _her_ ,”

“I was, I was over her instantly, it was never about her,” he said and it was the truth of it really. It had never been about her. It had been about Kastor. About himself and the person he wanted to be away from Kastor’s suffocating shadow.

Laurent went up onto his knees, shuffled to the end of the bed and Damen stepped into him, straight into his arms as they went around his middle, hugging him close for a long perfect moment.

“You know, I didn’t love her,” He said stroking a hand down Laurent’s back “it wasn’t like this,”

Laurent sucked in a breath and if he heard the implication he didn’t balk or blink or do anything except prop his chin on Damen’s chest to turn his eyes up.

“You really didn’t remember?”

“No,” he said pushing Laurent’s hair back from his face “can you forgive me?”

Laurent smiled, pressed a kiss to his chest “only if you make it up to me with a really good first date, otherwise absolutely not,” he said haughty even as he grinned and bounced from the bed to put the condom in the bin. It had probably been bothering him this whole time.

They got dressed quickly, pausing only twice to kiss which Damen thought was pretty good going considering all he really wanted to do was pull Laurent back against him. There was no hiding the state of them though; it was obvious and would have been obvious even if they were somewhat put together. For a start Damen could feel his neck throbbing from Laurent’s bite and Laurent’s hair was chaotic at best, his skin tellingly pink around his mouth and on his neck. They smelt like sex; like sweat and want and each other.

As soon as they re-joined the party in the living room, they were bombarded by jeers and comments but Damen barely heard them, his eyes went straight to Nicaise who had his eyes narrowed like he was reserving judgement. Which was exactly what he was doing considering he had a pretty good reason to think Damen was a dick.

But one look at Laurent and it was hard to miss the flush or the bitten smile on his face that he was trying furiously to clamp down on. Nicaise clocked it too, breezing past Damen and barrelling into Laurent, steering him toward the kitchen for a cigarette and an interrogation no doubt.

It was Ancel that accosted Damen, grabbing his arm and shoving him down onto the sofa “well?” he asked with wide expectant eyes.

Damen felt the blood rush to his face and he palmed the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t give me that, we heard practically all of it, you realise that bedroom is right above us right?” Ancel said with a smirk

“Christ,” Damen said and looked to Erasmus for support who only grinned at him amusedly

“Nicaise said Laurent is into you, so I told them-“

“How pathetic you are for Laurent,” Jord interrupted and Erasmus reached across to hit him

“I didn’t say that,”

“True though, isn’t it?” Aimeric said and well.

“Yeah, not the words I’d use but fair point,” Damen admitted

Altogether it wasn’t as bad or as loud as he had thought it would be. But then, it took him a few moments to realise Pallas and Lazar were nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, no, they left,” Jord said with his eyebrows up “Pallas is going to eat him alive,” he said which was probably a fair summation.

Damen knew instantly from the total lack of a glare thrown his way from Nicaise when he came back from his cigarette with Laurent a few moments later, that he was finally not on Nicaise’s shit list. For now anyway.

If he had been worried, how things would work or how Laurent would react now then it was a worry that was never given any room to blossom.

Laurent bypassed the seat beside Damen and climbed into his lap, making himself comfy as he leant into his chest. Damen hadn’t expected it, and neither had anyone else because there was absolutely no response until Ancel ruined it by cooing loudly. Laurent didn’t respond, just tucked his face against Damen’s and huffed an amused noise.

He was endlessly, endlessly endearing and Damen loved him so fucking much.

Damen didn’t say it though, not yet, not like this. It could wait. But he tightened his arms around him, buried a smile in his hair and breathed him in and Laurent just let himself be held.

Things started to wind down then, the early hours of the morning started to drift in, and the world seemed to get progressively quieter around them. No more traffic, no more noise, just the same eerie quiet that seemed to settle into the sleepy space between Christmas eve and Christmas morning.

Erasmus left, pressing a kiss to Damen’s cheek and then, out of the blue, a kiss to Laurent’s cheek that instantly stymied Laurent’s no doubt annoyed reaction to the former. Aktis predictably threw up and was ferried upstairs to the slightly ruined spare room to sleep it off. Berenger had to leave and Ancel looked victorious when he came inside from saying goodbye and endured the ribbing that followed with a satisfied smile.

Whilst Ancel, Aimeric, and Nicaise ganged up on Jord, Laurent took the opportunity to press a kiss to Damen’s jaw as he reached for his hand; toying lightly with Damen’s fingers.

Damen hummed, tightened the arm he had around him “I should go soon,”

Laurent curled closer in his lap, still toying with his fingers.

“You know,” he said, not looking at Damen but rather at the way their fingers danced and entwined in his lap “if you’re worried about tomorrow, I could always go with you,” he said

Damen smiled, nudged the side of Laurent’s bowed head with his nose and bumped his temple with his mouth “you’d do that?”

Laurent peeked up at him “What? Too soon?”

Damen didn’t really know how to tell him how grateful he was for him so he drew him closer and kissed him instead.

“Might as well be now, I have no intention of letting you go,”

“Good,” Laurent said flushing just a little all over again and Damen honestly could not wait to see what shade he could make him go in the future “besides I’m hotter than her, and I am not above saying everything I said earlier to her face,” he said “and if things go south, I can always make sure Kastor would need a testicle retrieval and a hail Mary to ever have children,”

Damen barked a laugh, pressing his smile into Laurent’s neck but not before he caught the pleased look on his face as he settled back against him. Seriously. So. Fucking. Much.

“I can pick you up at 5?”

“You better sign the present from the both of us because I don’t have time to get your father or stepmother anything,” Laurent said and there was just something about the easy way he said it, the way Damen could suddenly see his entire life drifting into _us_ and _we_ and the sweet inevitability of it all nearly made him catch his breath.

“And I’ll rewrite the card,”

Laurent nodded, biting his lip to stop the smile but it was a pointless endeavour. Damen could even feel it when he leant in to kiss him, still astounded that Laurent not only kissed him back but let him do it in front of their friends.

“Oh, you two are going to be a fucking nightmare,” Jord groused from somewhere beyond Laurent in a realm of being that might as well have not existed for all Damen gave a shit.

Laurent was on the same page and instead of replying Damen felt him shift his arm. He knew without looking he was giving him the finger.

“The pining was worse,” Nicaise said “I think,”

“The pining was unbearable,” Aimeric groused “but this will get really old too,”

“I think they want us to leave them alone,” Jord teased “Laurent looks like he’s actually getting annoyed, that’s an annoyed kiss if ever I saw one,”

“Yeah, but Damen doesn’t give a shit, he’s tuning us out, that’s a skill,” Ancel said

“Well, he had to hone it pretty quick when he met you didn’t he?” Nicaise jumped in

“Hey Damen just out of interest where is Nikandros tonight?” Ancel asked

Damen grinned wider against Laurent’s mouth, turned his head and he was really going to be in so much shit but honestly? If it got them to shut the fuck up he would absolutely sail him down the river with a smile and a fucking wave.

“Call Vannes, they’re probably still up,”

It had the hoped-for effect and he heard a distinct _what the fuck_ and a laughing _fucking called it_ but Laurent against him was grinning.

“She really likes him you know,” Laurent said and of _course_ Laurent knew about it, who the fuck else would she have told? “and good throw, it’s their own fucking fault,”

“He’ll kill me,” Damen lamented with a pout

Laurent laughed, pressed his thumb to his bottom lip “he has to make it out of Vee’s bedroom alive first and I have seen her sex toy collection,”

“You should have seen his face when he asked me what anal felt like,” Damen said and he probably shouldn’t have said that but really, it was just Laurent and it was still funny “I’ve never seen a man look more serious talking about prostate orgasms in my fucking life, we might as well have been making battle plans,”

“Oh, knowing Vee you should have been,” Laurent laughed “and you laugh but you haven’t seen my sex toys yet,” he said quirking one delightful eyebrow at him.

Warmth instantly pooled in his lower belly and his body wouldn’t take much persuasion to switch gears from sleepy to fully alert and _awake_.

But Damen could play this game all day long. He hummed, sliding his hand up the inside of Laurent’s thigh, watched his expression flicker and his lips part just enough to give Damen a glimpse of his tongue.

“Earlier,” he said stroking anything-but-idle patterns against the inside of his thigh, tracing a little higher with every stroke “you asked if Jo and the others were submissive in bed, I missed the obvious question, didn’t I?”

Laurent sucked in a sharp almost inaudible breath and Damen felt his thigh twitch and the exhale of his lungs.

“I absolutely did not ask,” Laurent said

Damen just hummed, reached up to tuck some of Laurent’s hair behind his ear, let his fingers linger against the shell and down the curve, right to the corner of his jaw. He didn’t miss the way Laurent blinked, the way he wet his lips. Ears then, neck too he knew. He leant in, let him feel the heat of his breath where his fingers had just been.

“You wanted to know,” he said enunciating his words, keeping his voice quiet so that Laurent shivered a little as he felt more than heard them “what I preferred, yes?”

“Not at all,” Laurent said but his voice was a little strained and his cheeks had a little more colour than usual. Damen really didn’t give a shit if it was what he’d asked. The insinuation was all caught up in his head now; Laurent’s apparent interest.

“What about,” he said tongue just barely grazing the shell of Laurent’s ear as he spoke “if I told you that I really, really, like taking orders in bed?”

The reaction was instantaneous, Laurent’s slow blink, the clench of his thighs as he tried to twitch them together, the shiver that seemed to ripple up his chest and ended on a shaky exhale from his mouth that was Damen’s new favourite sound in the world.

“ _Damen,”_

“Laurent,” he hummed letting his lips find the skin of his neck.

Laurent’s swallow was audible and he shoved at Damen’s chest a little, meeting his gaze.

“We’re leaving, right now, get an uber,” he said and when Damen only laughed, he hissed “I am really not joking,

“It’s practically Christmas day and your family get up at the arse crack of dawn-”

“I can unwrap presents on no sleep, hanging out my arse, _and_ with your come still leaking out of me for all I care,”

“Fuck,”

Laurent grinned, smelling a victory “get us an uber, we’re going to yours and you are absolutely showing me _exactly_ how good you are at taking orders,”

And well, Laurent asked, Damen would deliver.

**Author's Note:**

> It's like 5am and I didn't edit so allow me. 
> 
> Let me know what you think if you can be arsed, if not stay golden and all that x


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